


Hebrews 13:2

by Bitter_Baristas



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Reborntale, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Angel/Demon Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sorry Not Sorry, Underswap Papyrus, Underswap Sans, marked as complete but it's just abandoned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitter_Baristas/pseuds/Bitter_Baristas
Summary: Hebrews 13:2Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.Sans the Angel believed kindness existed in every creature, even if it was buried beneath a tough exterior. When it came to Papyrus, Sans never doubted if he was good. Not for a second.





	1. Chapter One: Meeting

"This is so exciting! Thanks for letting me come along!" Sans' wings shivered, a grin stretching across his face. He had never ventured this far from the Angel Capital and the rural woods resonated something within him, a sense of familiarity that was like returning home. Gnarled aspen, straight standing pines and oaks crowded the narrow pathway, dense and ominous. Yet Sans didn't feel the animosity his fellow angels did, their wings drawn close to their tense bodies.

For Sans the entire trip had been enjoyable, especially when they had passed through a settlement, the monsters completely unaware of their presence. The two more experienced angels had showed him how to 'touch' the living, something that involved reaching his soul out to them to compel them to feel whatever he wished.

He had, of course, chosen happiness.

The monster had visibly brightened, posture erect and smile prominent. She had been so lifted from Sans' touch that she went on her way to spread the sudden joy she felt, greeting and offering assistance to anyone in need. It was a chain reaction of positivity that heightened Sans' perpetually good spirits, causing his soul vibrations to strengthen and extend to the mortals effortlessly.

It was a virtuous pleasure, helping people.

His friends had been so gracious to invite him on their expedition, he would have to repay them for their kindness.

"I mean it, you guys are great! We barely know each other and you've taught me so much!"

The two older angels exchanged an irritated look.

"Yeah, whatever, don't tell Alphys we took you to the woods." Said one, white and brown speckled wings fluffing.

The second angel popped up behind his shoulder, "they're crawling with demons!" He wriggled his fingers, voice deepening for dramatic effect.

Sans nodded vigorously.

"I would never! The Magnificent Sans never betrays his friends." The skeleton monster fell into a quiet lull, contemplative. "Cage, have you ever met a demon?"

Cage, the elder and higher ranking of the two angels, snorted.

"I'd be dead if I had, if you’re less than an archangel demons will rip you apart in seconds."

"But, they can't all be like that!" Sans frowned. "I mean, how can you be sure if you've never met a demon? Maybe some of them are really nice and we just don't give them a chance."

He was met with a sharp glare. "You know what they'd think of you back home if they heard you talking like that?" Sans wasn't given a chance to reply. "They'd think you're a demons fuck toy, you know what that is? Its an angel who has fallen from grace and sleeps around with demons."

"Hey," the other said warningly. "Lay off him, Cage. He's still young, he doesn't know better."

"I can't help it if he's daft! I don't know why Alphys favors you, someone who asks such stupid questions. Demons kill us, for fun." Brown wings bristled, anger simmering and threatening to boil over.

Sans felt a hand on his shoulder, the other angel kneeling to smile apologetically at him.

"He is right Sans, we're lost many angels to demons. Even angels who helped them."

Sans looked crestfallen, unable to believe that demons were so intrinsically heartless.

"They can't all be bad," he insisted. "If we just gave them a chance I'm sure that we could all get along."

Cage stared at him incredulously.

"Well, why don't you ask one to be friends? You won't get one word out before they sink their teeth in you."

Sans was about to argue his point when a roar shook the snow frosted trees.

"Shit!"

Conversation forgotten, the two angels scrambled into action, flapping their wings. "Sans, we gotta go!"

A cry of pain rang out, followed by the sounds of a scuffle. When Sans didn't respond, Cage snarled.

"We're leaving, stay if you want."

"But we can't leave him. Alphys will--"

"To hell with Alphys, if the idiot wants to be a hero he can die doing it. I'm out of here." He pushed his wings down hard and launched into the air, zipping away from the danger.

The second angel hesitated, but only for a moment before following.

Logically Sans knew this was dangerous, that the easy and safe thing to do would be to flee. But his intuition demanded that he stay, insisting that this was important.

He inhaled deeply and gathered his magic until it buzzed, almost tangible around him. His fingertips tingled with the taunt energy, ready to use an attack if necessary.

He hoped it wouldn't be necessary.

The angel crouched low to the ground and flattened his wings to his spine, moving stealthily towards the battle. He hid in the trees, assessing the situation. The clearing was small and some of the surrounding trees had been crushed, indicating a struggle. A massive demon was looming over a smaller demon who'd been beaten into the ground. The assailant was laughing and saying something Sans couldn't quite catch but sounded derogatory. His target showed no signs of hearing either, unmoving on the dirtied snow. Sans' eye lights flickered as he checked the victims stats, relieved he was not in danger of dying. His magic was, however, unstable and almost depleted.

Sans cast out his hands, grabbing the aggressors soul in blue magic. He gripped him firmly and gave a shoving motion, sending him crashing through the trees. Shouts of anger and confusion told him that the demon was not ready to give up, and he rose the creature high into the air only to forcefully bring him down.

"Sorry!" he said. "But pick on someone your own size, or just don't pick on anybody."

The demon clamored out of the crater from his impact, face contorted in ugly rage. Fear spiked in the angel, but it was outweighed by righteous anger that fueled him to fight. The use of blue magic had been draining, but Sans wasn't going to relent until the dazed demon was safe. He dashed to stand between the two demons, summoning a tight circle of blue bones around himself and the badly beaten demon.

The hulking beast roared and charged at them recklessly, body seizing as if electricity was coursing through him when he came into contact with the bones.

Sans felt guilty for bringing pain upon the other, but did not dispel the protective magic.

"I can do this all day," he bluffed, puffing out his chest. The demon panted, backing away slowly. Saliva dripped from his maw with ragged breathes. Sans stood taller. The demon snarled at him, pawing at the ground, and then retreated. He gave a bellowing roar before disappearing into the forest, tree tops shivering as he shoved past.

When the demons presence was far off Sans collapsed, panting from the exertion of heavily outputting magic.

He stayed like that until his breathing evened, adrenaline fading. The angel crawled to the demons side, peering at him with concerned cyan eyes that widened when he realized he was looking at another skeleton monster.

"Hey, are you okay? That demons gone now, he can't hurt you anymore." He laid a gentle had on the skeletal shoulder, trying to calculate the damage.

Blurry orange eyelights focused on him and in a sharp jerk the demon had one of Sans' wings in a vice grip. He yelped, flailing uselessly. The harsh hold released almost instantly, but the damage was done.

Sans dropped and curled into himself, whimpering.

The demon cautiously moved over him, hands fluttering unsurely over the trembling monster.

"Shit, I'm sorry." The soft, gravelly voice went unheard by the crying angel. "Shit, shit, don't move okay, I won't hurt you." The demon winced at his own words. "Well, not again."

With a tender hand he took the tip of the sky blue wing and extended in until his tiny savior made a pained noise. "Bare with me, kid."

"Sans." The angel bit out, eyes squeezed shut.

The demon smiled slightly. "Okay, Sans." He continued his examination, finding the delicate tendons in the center of the wing bent. "It’s all out of shape... will, will this heal?" His voice was unabashedly worried, and Sans smiled automatically to calm the demon.

"Yes," he hissed as he moved into a sitting position. "But I don't think that I'll be flying anytime soon." He rocked onto his feet, failing to keep the pain from his face. "Alphys is going to kill me."

The demon stood as well, towering above him. Sans' gaze trailed up over the handsome frame in awe, stars dancing in his irises. "Golly, you're so tall!"

The lanky skeleton flushed an apricot color, rubbing the back of his neck. Sans quickly spoke again, forgetting the twinges of pain in his wing. "What's your name?"

"...Papyrus."

Sans smiled brightly, holding out his hand. "Well it's nice to meet you, Papyrus. You already know that I am the Magnificent Sans." Papyrus smirked, ignoring the hand.

"What makes you so magnificent?" The question made Sans' brow twitched in irritation.

"I did save you from the brute." He proclaimed, eyes sparkling.

Papyrus flushed a deeper orange, looking away from the feisty angel.

"Heh, yeah. Thanks for that."

"Your welcome." Sans smiled again, sounding very self-satisfied. "I'm glad you're okay, Papyrus, but I should probably be headed home."

Papyrus blinked, "are you by yourself?"

Sans nodded.

"And you can't fly?" The angel spread his wings and flapped experimentally, eyelights blowing wide in his sockets and starry pupils shrinking. He shook his head, arms folding tightly as sharp pain shot between his shoulder blades. Papyrus eyed the creature who had saved him by luck and the element of surprise. He'd already whittled down the other demons' stamina, Sans would have had no chance if the other was at full strength. He would never make it out of this forest alone.

Papyrus sighed. He was the reason this sweet being was hurt, and it was his responsibility to rectify his actions.

"You can stay with me until your wing heals and I'll make sure no demons hurt you on your way home, deal?"

Sans beamed, nodding eagerly. "Thank you very much, Papyrus."

Papyrus stared disbelievingly at the angel, who was willing and ready to walk right into his lair.

"Are you always so trusting of strangers?"

Sans withdrew, as if the question was ridiculous. He them grinned, winking an eyelight. "Only the very nice ones."

Papyrus felt his cheeks grow hot, and he wondered if the angel was oblivious to the flirtation or less angelic than he appeared.

As they began the walk to his home, Papyrus decided that it was surely the first.

Sans was happy to chatter about whatever was on his mind. He switched topics without warning and told stories slightly too fast to understand and that made little sense without context. His voice was a pleasant drone that Papyrus drifted in and out of.

"Papy? Papy?"

He jolted, realizing that Sans expected a response. "Hm, what is it?"

"Are we almost there?"

"Why, whats wrong?"

Sans shifted sheepishly, "I'm, uh, a bit tired."

Of course, the small skeleton had no doubt exerted himself fighting. Without thinking Papyrus scooped the smaller into his arms, carrying him bridal style. Sans squeaked,

"Hey, I'm not a baby bones!"

"Would you prefer walking?"

Sans huffed, but did not protest further. As usual he looked on the bright side, which was that this new angle gave him the opportunity to study Papyrus' features. Just above his temples were goat-like horns, and he also had an impressive wingspan for a demon. Sans had heard that demon wings were not generally good for flight because of their small size, but relative to his size Papyrus' wings were almost as big as Sans'. They were brown and gaping with holes, the leathery surface looking as if it had been torn to shreds near the bottom.

That wasn't a surprise. The skin was so thin that if caught in the right light the bones and tendons beneath became visible.

Temptation too great, the angel reached up and softly stroked the appendage. They felt sturdier than they appeared, and Sans began to pet the wing with fascination. Papyrus made a strangled sound and Sans stopped, blushing dark blue and snapping his hand back.

"Sorry," he apologized fervently. "That was very forward of me."

The demon blinked, honey colored tongue lolling out of his mouth. He was about to say something naughty when he cut himself off.

"Heh, don't worry about it." He started walking again, straining to push down his flaring demon instincts that dictated he return the favor by plucking those pretty blue feathers.

"Can you fly?"

Papyrus looked skeptically at his wings, brow bone arching at the question.

"With these things? Nah, they're only good for show and riding gusts of wind."

"Oh."

They continued, Sans falling quiet. Papyrus looked down when he felt the angel relax and nuzzle into him. Sans had fallen asleep, a string of drool leaking from his mouth. An emotion seldom felt by the demon swelled in his soul. It was warm and affectionate, but he couldn't place a name to the feeling.

A darker feeling followed, anger at the knowledge that this trusting creature could easily be corrupted if the wrong hands were laid upon him.

Why should he care?

He was a demon, hard wired to despise the goodness of angels. Any other demon would have taken advantage of such blind trust, stealing this ray of sunshine away to defile it. Papyrus felt his soul sink, the question raising in his mind.

Was he doing any different?

He hated that every time he went to his favorite bar he had to listen to sick demons regale their friends with gruesome exploits involving angels. "She screamed when I ripped out her wings, but she only cried when I fucked her. Blood tasted so sweet, like wine. Too bad I got too rough, if she'd healed I wouldn't be out a fuck toy."

Those stories made him ill, knuckles burning to pulverize the demons that whistled their approval of horrific torture. But he was one against many, and wisely drank his honey to keep from a rampage that would only accomplish his demise.

This was his first contact with an angel, and the demented images other demons had put in his head were disturbingly appealing. He could picture this innocent creature whimpering and crying at his feet, begging to be taken.

And it terrified him.

Papyrus was lazier than most, his defense for why he'd never taken part in angel hunting, but now that he had one defenseless in his arms his demonic nature was surfacing. His fangs ached to bite into those pristine bones, to crunch through them and finish the job of manhandling Sans' wings. His winding tail lashed behind him, thumping in anticipation of what his mind was urging him to do.

He steeled himself. Self control was not high on the smoking, drinking skeletons resume, but he was resolute in keeping his promise to the angel.

Papyrus glanced to the sleeping angel his arms, now able to openly stare. Sans wore loose fitting black shorts and a grey shirt that had shoulder pads on it. His outfit was accented with teal highlights and was not the sort of thing Papyrus pictured angels wearing. He'd assumed they all wore white robes or something, the idea that diversity existed in their culture the way in did in his hadn't occurred to him.

Another thought presented itself; why had this angel strayed so far from home? Whatever the reason, Papyrus felt thankful for being able to meet Sans'. The angels soul was pure and with this new closeness Papyrus could feel it fluttering excitedly in the confines of its owners chest, happy like a songbird.

His grip tightened, the desire to protective Sans washing over him. Beneath that protectiveness lingered an unfounded possessiveness.

A shadow passed over his face, soul and mind conflicting. He was shaken from his dark thoughts when Sans stirred, blinking awake.

"Are we there already?"

Papyrus realized they had been at a stand still for a few minutes and laughed nervously.

"A little longer, you can keep napping."

Sans mumbled illegibly and did just that, fingers curling into the soft fabric of Papyrus' hoodie as he slept.

The same wash of tenderness and sunlight overcame the demon and he sighed, wondering what fresh hell he had just released upon himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus isn't sure he can control himself around Sans, but he's determined to try.

As the the artificial light of the Underground began to dim, Papyrus wondered if he had errored in taking responsibility for Sans. Demons stronger than the one from earlier would emerge with nightfall and he wasn’t strong enough to fend for himself, let alone protect Sans. Even if they survived the night, sooner or later the other demons would find out about the angel and attempt to steal him away, killing one or both of them in the process. It would be proactive to end this before it started. He looked down, soul swelling with affection. Sans fingers clung loosely to his hoodie, the angel cuddling into his chest like a newborn seeking warmth. His disheveled wings were drooping and he twitched in his sleep, muttering, before pressing closer into Papyrus. He had put himself at the mercy of a demon. It would be the kind thing to do, to protect him from the others and Papyrus himself. An orange femur materialized in his shaking hand. So easy… he dispelled the magic.

He couldn’t kill Sans.

The deal he made was one he would honor. Once Sans’ wing was healed the angel could return home safely and that would be the end of it.

How long would that be?

Papyrus inspected the damage. The wing was visibly crooked, hanging at an awkward angle that had to be excruciating. Why Sans hadn’t been more affected was baffling--from what he had heard at the pub most angels had a very low tolerance for pain. Sans was tough, he mused. Tough enough to battle a demon to protect another demon, and then hide the pain of what Papyrus was sure to be a broken wing.

Extraordinary.

Something akin to respect for the creature in his arms formed and he allowed himself a smile.

He despised promises, but it was a promise he’d made and a promise he’d keep. He owed Sans that much.

In the distance a powerful demonic aura stirred, sluggishly moving. Papyrus bristled, attentively ‘listening’ for the demon's presence. It didn’t seem to be interested in them, if it had noticed their presence. He breathed a sigh of relief and quickened his pace.

If his magic hadn’t been expended fighting that lout he would simply short cut them home. More times than he’d care to admit he had accidentally dunked himself in the river after trying to teleporting home at the end of a night of binge drinking. Teleporting with low magic reserves had similar results. And while he was loath to admit it, his single HP was something he had to be aware of. Pushing his magic too far could literally kill him.

However, it wasn’t necessarily safer walking the distance. If anyone spotted them, they were dead anyway. It was lucky they hadn’t been preyed on already.

Papyrus sighed. He supposed all this action today was a penance for his laziness. The demon summoned all the magic he could muster, pushing through the splitting pain that erupted in his bones. The magic sparked in the air, the world warping around them with a pop.

They teleported into the house, a few feet in the air. It wasn’t his most graceful entrance, but it was a blessing he’d hit the target at all.

Papyrus landed sharply on his tailbone, pain shooting up his spine. He cried out, throwing Sans off his lap. The angel gasped and scrabbled at the floor, heaving for the air that had, for a split second, disappeared around them. Sans stilled when he saw Papyrus, by his side in an instant when he realized the demon was hurt.

Papyrus was hunched over, face scrunched in pain. His jaw clenched, claws raking new grooves in the floorboards.

“Stay away!” He snarled, swiping instinctually. Sans managed to dodge the attack and stumbled back, startled. The angel did not keep the newfound distance.

Papyrus hissed when he felt Sans check his stats, slinking back as Sans approached.

“Papyrus,” he said calmly, “you strained your magic. I know it hurts. I’m going to try and help you, okay?” The small skeleton moved with deliberate slowness, meeting Papyrus’ wild amber eyelights with steady blue ones. He knelt before the demon fearlessly and placed a hand on either side of his skull, eyes closing as a soft glow of magic conducted between their bone. The magic spread over his hands and he focused on conveying a sensation of reassurance. His magic seeped into Papyrus’ slightly yellowed bone, alleviating the pain.

Sans withdrew and swooned, steadied by two strong hands.

Papyrus moved disorientingly fast, suddenly above the angel and coaxing him to lay down.

Sans smiled weakly.

“What did you do?”

“Healing magic. I’m still learning, but Undyne says I’m really good.”

Papyrus nodded, expression unreadable.

“Feels like it. Come on, we need to look at that wing.”

He led Sans to a small, dirty bathroom. Rummaging through a cabinet, throwing everything he deemed unhelpful over his shoulder, he gathered the supplies to fix Sans wing. The demon unrolled a spool of gauze. “Can’t you do that on your wing?” he asked, carefully moving Sans’ wing into a natural position against his body.

Sans shook his head.

“I’m not good enough to heal this, and I can’t really reach to well enough.” He demonstrated, arms reaching up and back awkwardly. “Can you heal it?” his voice was hopeful, and Papyrus paused.

He might be able to.

“How do I do it?”

“Just think really hard about what you want your magic to do, and think good thoughts, too. Like my wing healing.”

Skepticism twisted his face, but Papyrus obligingly raised his hands to the injured wing. Touch light, he closed his eyes as Sans had done. Magic collecting at his fingertips, stagnant and useless.

“Think good thoughts,” Sans prompted.

Papyrus grunted, brow furrowing.

Good thoughts.

Like what? Sans wing healing, probably.

He willed himself to think about bones straightening and bruises fading, but Sans feathers were soft and distracting under his fingers. His mind wandered from good thoughts to impure, images of a debauched Sans panting with his legs spread beneath him sending his magic elsewhere. Papyrus jerked, wrenching himself away from the unsuspecting angel.

He felt the heat in his cheeks and prayed that the heat in his pants wasn’t visible.

“Sorry, buddy. I can’t.”

The angels’ optimistic expression fell, but he brightened.

“That’s okay, it’s not as easy as I make it look. My wing will heal on its own.”

Papyrus nodded and returned to tending to the wing as best he could. He parted the feathers, exposing an open wound his claws must have caused. The area was swelling and discolored, fluid encrusted on the feathers. Without warning he pressed a disinfectant soaked cotton pad to the laceration, holding firm as Sans whinned. The demon continued through the pained noises and wrapped gauze over the better part of the appendage, tapping everything into place.

It was crude, but effective. Sans wing was now parallel to its twin, and Papyrus admired his work.

“How’s it feel?”

Sans grimaced.

“Not great,” he admitted. “I think its fractured, but it could be worse.”

Papyrus swallowed, wondering if Sans knew exactly how much worse it could be.

“Well, that’s about all I can do. Now we wait.”

Sans erect posture dropped, and guilt panged at Papyrus’ soul. If he wasn’t such a pervert Sans could be healed and on his merry way.

More guilt stabbed at him, and Papyrus considered trying to heal the angel again. Surely he could manage to keep this mind clean for a few minutes. The angel wasn’t his to keep, he had no right to force him to stay.

“I’m sorry, healing must be an angel thing.”

He was a selfish bastard.

“Don’t be sorry, Papy! Did you try your best?”

Hardly. His hands shoved into his pockets.

“Yeah.”

Sans smiled, “then you did all you could do. No need to be sorry.”

Papyrus laughed humorlessly.

“Thanks, Sans.”

The angel smiled wider and clasped his hands together. “My wing will heal in no time, and we can make the most of the meantime.”

Papyrus had thought his aroused magic had subsided; he was wrong.

“W-what?”

“You’re the first demon I’ve ever met! We can learn all sorts of new things from each other.”

Papyrus chuckled. All sorts of new things indeed.

“Let's save the conversation for dinner.”

“Okay,” Sans chirped.

“It’s a date,” his smirk grew when he saw that the implication had gone over Sans’ head.

. . .

Sans talked almost non-stop. For being stranded in the forests of Snowdin, a place angels notoriously did not return from, he was surprisingly chipper. He did not seem to be worried about his well being, or if his absence was being missed elsewhere.

“Sans,” Papyrus interrupted his story, a sudden question demanding to be asked. The angel blinked, his prattling ceasing.

“Yes?”

“What were you doing out here, anyway?”

Sans toed at the cluttered floor sheepishly.

“Some other angels said they wanted to see this side of the Underground and invited me to come along.”

Papyrus’ eyes narrowed.

“Friends?”

“Well, not exactly. They’re older than me, it was super nice of them to let me tag along. We were at the end of the larger human settlements, at the edge of the woods and Cage said we should explore. So we did. That was sometime before we heard you and that nasty demon. They flew away when they heard you guys.”

“They abandoned you.” Papyrus said blankly. Sans frowned, offended for his mock friends.

“I wanted to stay,”

The demon chose to ignore that topic for the time being.

“Okay, so aren’t you younger angels pretty much incarcerated in that Capital of yours? They just let you leave and go to the most dangerous place for angels?”

Sans ducked his head down, avoiding Papyrus’ gaze.

“...We... kind of snuck out. Cage said it would be fine.”

Papyrus didn’t like the sound of this ‘Cage.’

“An angel, breaking a rule?” he said, pretending to be aghast.

“Anyway, we had a great time up until the end of it. I guess Cage doesn't like me too much, but he must have wanted to if he invited me." Sans perked up, unaware of Papyrus' brewing anger.

Sans was far too innocent, the demon thought bitterly. Someone who obviously didn't like him lures him into the heart of demon land and he didn't think twice. Papyrus didn't know exactly what had transpired before Sans came to his aid, but he could piece it together. He'd wager anything that whoever Cage was, he'd had planned to ditch Sans regardless. Or at the very least planned to do something hurtful.

He thought only demons were so cruel.

"Well, he's an idiot not to like you."

Sans grinned proudly, "the Magnificent Sans is simply too much for some people."

"I think you're just the right amount."

"Really?" The wobble in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

"Sure, I wouldn't lie to make friends." The demons easy going attitude melted his anger, and he smiled down at the angel.

"We're friends?"

Papyrus shrugged, "sure."

Sans gasped loudly, hands slapping to his face and eyes bursting with multi-colored stars. Papyrus jolted, if he'd had a heart he was sure it would have stopped.

"Really? Friends?" The angel tackled him in an enthusiastic hug, his grip stronger than his short stature should have allowed. "Wowie! Don't worry, you have made an excellent choice of friendship. The Magnificent Sans will be the bestest friend you have ever had!"

Papyrus' arms had risen in surprise and he stared at the exuberant skeleton wrapped around his waist in shock. He slowly lowered his arms to return the embrace, awkwardly patting the angels back. Sans pulled away, smiling dazzlingly at him. Papyrus grinned back, trying not to be disappointed the hug was over already.

"I'm sure you will."

He reluctantly stepped back from Sans and yawned, bones cracking as he stretched. "I'm beat." Papyrus brushed past the skeleton and moseyed downstairs to fling himself on the sofa, leaving a small amount of room for Sans. The angel sat at the edge of his seat, now silent as they began to watch the television Papyrus continuously left on.

While he was sure Sans was distracted by the show, Papyrus snuck glances at the angel. His body was tense, wings and shoulders hitched high. His hands wrung in his lap nervously, moving to rub his arms and then to massage his left shoulder, the side of his injured wing.

Why had he done that to Sans? It had all happened so fast, but at the same time the world seemed to be going in slow motion. He had been about ready to give up, to let the bastard dust him and be done with life when the angel had dashed onto the scene. Although he looked harmless, standing barley to Papyrus' chest, he had precise control over his magic. It followed his subconscious command, effectively dealing with the bear-like demon without the risk of killing him. Papyrus had been aware of the angels intent. He'd clearly communicated his desire to help. The demon's body had seemed to move without his brains input, arm shooting out to snag the wing and yank. Sans was only trying to help him, had probably saved his life, so why did he repay his kindness with injury?

His mind skirted around the answer he didn't want to acknowledge. Had it been on purpose, to keep the angel from fleeing? Deny as he might, he couldn't shake the notion. The question was if he had done it intentionally or reflexively. Sans brought to the surface a demonic quality he didn't know he'd had, and it was possible he had acted entirely in the moment and without thinking. Even it that was the case, it didn't make anything better. For Papyrus, it was worse. It meant he wasn't in control of himself, and that he was capable of hurting Sans without deliberately deciding to.

Sans was not safe here. All the same, had this not been his goal? To sequester the angel here under false pretenses, keeping him until he no longer wished to return home?

No. No, no, no.

Papyrus refused to believe himself capable of something so sinister.

He had been high on adrenalin and his body reacted before his mind could decide that Sans was not a threat. The fact that Sans was stuck here was just causation. He could not fly, and Papyrus had been unable to heal his wing. As soon as he could manage the trip Sans would return to the Capital and that would be the end of it.

Chattering teeth interrupted his thoughts.

Shivers shook the angels bones and he drews his limbs close to his torso for warmth. Papyrus frowned and sat up.

"Wait here." He left Sans downstairs to retrieve a spare hoodie. It was soft and worn, faded from a vibrant orange to a marigold color. Papyrus looked at Sans, and then to the hoodie. He scissored his claws into the preexisting wing holes, cutting them wider. "Here."

The angel hastily put it on, mindful not to jar his wing.

The hoodie had always been too small for Papyrus, but it was amusingly large on San, its sleeves longer than his arms and the hem reaching his knees.

"Thanks."

Papyrus nodded and heavily sat back down.

"It would be cold of me to let you freeze."

There was a moment of silence before Sans snorted, smacking him lightly.

"That's terrible."

"You're smiling."

Sans cheekbones flushed a periwinkle blue, "am not."

"Lies," the demon leaned into the cushions, propping his legs on Sans lap.

Sans stuttered, but Papyrus was already snoring softly. He smiled and allowed himself to relax, sleep swiftly easing the pain in his wing and the swirling in his soul.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an entire other chapter written and hated it; I feel better about this one. Hopefully it was okay. Lots of love!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day one of his stay and Sans is having feelings he's never had before.

Sans must have fallen asleep outside of the temple because he never felt this warm in his bed. But the grass tickled his bones, whatever enveloped him was soft and smelled of campfire mixed with something musky. He opened his eyes and when his vision cleared he saw that he was face to face with another skeleton monster. A demon.

Before the rush of memory came, he supposed that panic should have been his first reaction.

It wasn't.

Something about this felt natural, as if he had fallen asleep and awoken in anothers body in another life. The house around him seemed familiar and alien all at once. In the fleeting moments of a lingering fog he could see that the peeling and faded paint was once a bright shade of blue. The cough had been a royal blue with teal throw pillows and the home, he felt strongly, was kept immaculate. He blinked and the illusion was shattered.

The couch was comfortable but falling apart and the living room looked as though a tornado had passed through it. Empty, bear-shaped bottles encrusted with a golden substance littered the floor and the demon beneath him was just a stranger, really.

Sans had fallen asleep draped across Papyrus' chest, the demon's arm curled around his waist. His breathing was slow and rhythmic, his face relaxed with sleep. The bone was smooth, but at this distance he could see hairline cracks flecking its surface. As a skeleton monster himself, Sans knew how hard it was to hide serious damage. Unlike monsters wrapped in muscle and flesh, their bones were openly visible and more easily damaged. When a fleshy monster was hurt, the padding protected the skeleton beneath. Split skin would scar over and fade. If he or Papyrus took a bone shattering blow their magic would work to mend the break, but some injuries could never fully heal.

Given his uniqueness, Undyne had taken extra time to give him an anatomy lecture. Knowing one's own weaknesses was the key to overcoming them, she had explained. Sans took that advice and ran with it.

In the Capital’s sleepy hours he practiced his magic in a seldom used courtyard. He spent hours honing his skills, making bone attacks burst into existence from the ground, and when he was good enough, from mid-air. Sans kept at it until he could go no further on his own. He could manipulate his magic almost flawlessly, but he had no experience sparing.

It had taken a week to wear down her resolve, but Alphys agreed to train him. Close combat was out of the question she’d said, but she still spent two months teaching him how to parry her axe. Only once had he failed to block her attack, his foot slipping on a fallen leaf and sending him off balance. Alphys realized it moments before disaster and pulled back, the blunt end of her axe thumping his skull with painful but non-lethal force. The blow left a faint indent and a web of cracks that his magic erased after a few weeks.

Papyrus too bore no obvious signs of long term damage. Which could imply he didn’t get into many fights, or that he was so skilled he took no permanent injuries with him afterwards. Because of the circumstances they met under, Sans assumed that it was the former.

Alphys was convinced that all demons were monstrous killers, but Papyrus was not like that. No evidence Sans had seen suggested he was.

How hard had he actually looked? Sans knew he could be too trusting. Cage was not a nice person, he had seen that from the start. Yet a bigger part of him overlooked his ill nature in hopes that he was extending the olive branch. Was he doing the same here, seeing things where there were none?

He hesitated, then slowly pushed himself up off the demon. Papyrus didn’t wake, breaths continuing to puff out of his mouth gently. The angel frowned and checked his stats again, this time looking at more than his HP.

PAPYRUS: LV 3, 1 ATK 1 DEF

A DEMON WHOSE LAZY STREAK HAS YET TO END

Level three... how many kills did that equate to? Sans shuddered to think about it. He had briefly learned about Levels Of VoilencE when Alphys was warning him about the nature of demons. The higher the level, the more lethal a predator they were. However, he shouldn't be fooled by low or no level demons, because any moment was a good moment to strike.

Still, three wasn't astronomical. He'd heard stories of much higher. In the grand scheme of things, three was fairly low. He'd heard from other angels that young demons were most volatile, likely to lash out at anything to up their LV. High level demons, well, they killed for sport. Papyrus was not a youngling and if his bio was accurate he was too lazy to hunt for EXP.

Yet he couldn’t keep Cage’s warning from his mind or the shiver from his bones. Cage was wrong; he had to be. Not all demons were evil. Papyrus was proof, he’d had numerous chances to bring Sans harm and he had not taken any of them.

Well, besides the first. Sans could understand that; in the heat of the moment Papyrus couldn’t tell him from friend or foe and had chosen fight over flight. It was self-preservation, instinctive in every creature. Sans was, after all, a very great presence and he wouldn't be surprised if Papyrus had felt intimidated by him. When he thought about it, they were equally at fault. He knew better than to crowd an injured creature and had done so regardless, putting himself in danger. Alphys had taught him better.

Alphys was a fearsome warrior, head of the Guard, and Sans had come to learn she was almost always right. When he was reborn she had overseen his transition, explaining the way of life in the Underground. Angels were beings of light and the disciples of God. Demons were born from monsters who held contempt and rage in their souls, monsters who died with hatred poisoning them. They could not be helped, Alphys had said. The darkness they harbored in life only festered in their rebirth. They had strayed from the path of holiness and were beyond redemption. Many angels had died or fallen trying to save a demon.

Sans had trusted her judgment, but the more he saw of the world the stronger his doubt grew. He believed that anybody could be a good person--if they just tried. Everything they taught the new angels was counter-intuitive to the stigma that all demons evil. Compassion, kindness, love, forgiveness, Sans lived by these guidelines. If an angel could be a nasty person, and Cage came to mind, than a demon could be a good one.

Alphys had to be wrong.

“Like what you see?”

Sans squeaked, realizing he had been staring at Papyrus while lost in thought.

“Worried you got in over your head?” The demon propped himself up on his elbows, dark eyes studying him.

The predatory gaze had Sans pressing to the other end of the couch. A blush glowed on his cheeks and he laughed nervously.

“I was just… sorry.”

Papyrus regarded him with a stony expression, breaking it with a grin.

“Heh, can’t blame you. Want to know what I’m all about, it’s smart.” He shrugged and resumed laying down with his eyes closed.

Sans sputtered, indignant. “Its distrustful!”

Papyrus’ shoulders began to shake and he gave a raspy laugh.

"Don't laugh!"

In a blur of motion Papyrus loomed above him, hands planted on either side of his head. Sans sucked in a gasp, leaning further back only to realize there was no more room to put between them. The demons broad shoulders and long arms had him trapped.

Papyrus leaned in so close that Sans could feel the heat of his magic. The demon stopped with his mouth hovering above the junction of Sans' neck and shoulder. Sans held himself still, a coil of nervousness and an anticipation he couldn't name winding within him. His body wanted to lean forward, to quirk his head and expose more of his cervical vertebrae. He did neither, almost paralyzed as Papyrus spoke.

"Demons don't trust themselves, you shouldn't either."

If he'd had skin, Papyrus' breath would have made it break out in goosebumps.

And then the closeness was gone. Papyrus returned to his side of the couch, daunting aura gone and replaced with an easy smile. Sans fought to keep from shaking and began to comb through his ruffled feathers. His soul beat against his rib cage and he pressed his trembling legs together.

What was this feeling? He should be angry, and half of him wanted to chastise Papyrus while the other half was still flustered. Sans straightened and spreaded his wings as best he could with the cast to make himself look bigger.

To admit weakness, in this case, was to submit to it.

He held himself with confidence he didn’t truly have and looked Papyrus in the eye.

“I won’t be intimidated.”

The demon almost seemed to be in a trance, staring at Sans but looking past him. Sans didn’t relent, and a moment later Papyrus snapped to attention. His expression was… admiring? The angel didn’t have time to dwell on the thought.

“You’re something else.” he muttered, and Sans couldn’t tell if he was talking to him or to himself. Papyrus stood, glancing back at him expectantly. “Breakfast?”

Sans smiled and hopped up to follow, glad to move on.

Papyrus frowned at the fridge's contents and pulled out the only edible item. “Looks like we're having eggs.”

He dropped a pan on the stove and turned the heat up to high. Sans watched him, barely containing his horror. Papyrus yawned and grabbed a honey bottle from the counter, squeezing it straight into his mouth. The demon caught Sans' appalled look and wiped his mouth.

“What?”

“You… drink honey?”

“You don’t?”

“It’s a condiment!”

Papyrus shrugged and capped the bottle.

Sans shook his head. “Anyway, you might want to grease the pan.”

“Good idea.” The demon doused the pan with an oil looking substance from an unmarked bottle. “Sorry, I don’t cook much. Explains a lot, doesn't it?” Sans had a sinking feeling. “Afterall, I’m skin and bones.”

Sans snorted, not bothering to point out that they didn’t have skin.

Papyrus grinned and cracked the eggs into the pan.

“So what do you usually eat?”

“Muffet’s, usually. Her food is to die for.”

That one took a moment to register, and he did laugh this time.

“Boo,” a smile split Sans' face as he held both thumbs down. “...I suppose you think you’re pretty punny.”

It was Papyrus’ turn to smile, and what a smile it was. His face lit up, eyes sparkling and cheeks tinting orange. The sight made Sans' soul jump and he swallowed the lump in his nonexistent throat. Making Papyrus laugh… it was as natural as breathing.

They managed to finish cooking without causing a fire, an accomplishment because apparently Papyrus had somehow once burned cereal.

Sans chewed his eggs and swallowed, shaking his head.

"How did you burn cereal?"

The demon shrugged, "freakish talent?"

"I guess so."

They continued to eat in comfortable silence, the heaviness from earlier lifted. Sans didn't give the demons odd behavior much thought, and Papyrus didn't mention it.

For a moment the rest of the world fell away. Sans was not an angel and Papyrus was not a demon. They were two monsters enjoying breakfast together. The knowledge that this comfortable feeling was temporary faded. Returning home dropped from Sans' mind and he chatted happily about whatever was on his mind. Papyrus listened and was interested to hear what he had to say. The demon made eye contact, nodding and throwing in comments when he had them. Sans couldn't remember the last time someone had conversed with him as though we were an equal. Other angels politely listened to him, but Papyrus took in every word as if it were important and needed to be examined.

"I think we'll be good friends, Papy!" he chirped suddenly.

The demon blinked, his tail ceasing its idle swaying. He stared hard at Sans, thoughtful.

"I think so too." He tone was low and thick.

They continued to eat, the conversation tapering into silence until Papyrus spoke.

"Sans?" His sounded serious, and Sans looked up curiously. The demon's face was twisted into a torn expression.

"Yes?"

Papyrus didn't say anything for a long moment. What was he thinking about?

"This Alphys, do you think she's going to come to find you?"

Oh.

Sans hadn't thought of that.

"Yeah! Hey, I bet they're looking for me already." Of course there would be some kind of search party. Sans knew he was safe, but they couldn't. He had gone missing near the demons' woods, the Guard had to be looking for him.

Papyrus nodded, the tip of his tail shaking like an agitated rattlesnakes’. He stood wordlessly and walked to the living room, the televisions volume rising.

Sans sat unsurely for a moment before following, relieved when Papyrus smiled and moved his legs to make room for him.

“Papy, how did you come to live here?” And why is it so familiar?

Papyrus took a moment to mull the question over.

“Everything’s fuzzy, but I remember I was reborn in a huge golden room. Everything hurt so much and I just sort of just started walking. I didn’t know where I was going but my legs just kept walking until I got here. Seemed like an okay place to nap and I never left.”

“It hurt?” His own rebirth had not been painful.

“Like a motherfucker. Felt like someone bashed my skull with a rock.”

Sans swallowed. “D-do you remember anything from before your rebirth?”

Papyrus glanced at him and then back to the TV.

“No. I’m not that person anymore. Whoever I was, whatever I did, it’s in the past.”

“Yes.” Sans nodded. “Of course, you’re right.”

Papyrus sighed, tossing something to him. He jolted when a black object landed in his lap.

“You can pick the show. Today.”

“Wowie! Thanks!” He fiddled with the remote and began to flip through the limited channels, stopping at a sitcom about a dysfunctional family. If Sans leaned against Papyrus and he rested his arm on Sans' shoulders, neither said anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if there will be many more Sans centered POV chapters. Sorry this chapter isn't to exciting. Haven't been very inspired, but if I don't force myself I'd never write anything. But the little Blueberry is having feelings he doesn't understand, yay for Papy. It'll be fun when we get to the NSFW.
> 
> Update, 2018: Yeah... the end? Sorry. I'm trash.

**Author's Note:**

> This AU needs to grow darn it! I hope this didn't feel rushed, but I imagine given their past that Sans and Paps would naturally be drawn to one another.


End file.
